


Under My Skin

by quicksilver_nightsky



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentioned Character Death, Minor Violence, Mpreg, Soulmarks, Surpise Mpreg, implied eating disorders, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:28:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quicksilver_nightsky/pseuds/quicksilver_nightsky
Summary: Noctis and Prompto are not soulmates. Noct doesn't have a name, and Prompto isn't even properly human. He doubts he has a soul, so why would he have a soulmate?But after Insomnia falls, things start to go horribly wrong...





	1. Unknown

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Names and Barcodes](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781258) by [OperaGoose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OperaGoose/pseuds/OperaGoose). 



> Another fic I dug out of my Docs archives cause I can't seem to write anything. Enjoy.
> 
> I’m like 60% sure it was supposed to be a sequel to this https://archiveofourown.org/works/11781258

“Noct,” Prompto whispered, shifting closer. They were camping again tonight. Gladio and Ignis were already asleep - they’d fallen asleep, very appropriately, two hand-spans apart. But as soon as their deep sleep cycle begun, they’d shifted until they were pressed together.

Noctis, for once, wasn’t asleep. He was awake, staring at the roof of the tent. “Yeah?” He asked tonelessly.

“I know you’re not okay,” he whispered. “But is there anything I can do for you?”

“My kingdom has fallen, my father is being held prisoner, and reports say my fiancée is _dead_. Of course I’m not _okay_.”

Prompto sighed. He knew that. He’d _said_ that. “I don’t think she’s dead,” he said. “Just give me the word, Noct. I’ll go to Altissia and find her.”

“Shut up,” Noct sighed. “Just come here.” He sifted close and folded himself into the prince’s arms. “Just stay with me.”

He made himself comfortable, closing his eyes. 

  


When morning came, Noctis was asleep at last. Ignis and Gladio were awake already, cooking, and off for his morning run, respectively.

He stumbled out of the tent, happily lifting his nose to welcome the delicious smell of breakfast. But as soon as the smell hit, so did a violent wave of nausea. He hurried away from camp, but escaping the smell didn’t help. Eventually he made it back to camp. Just in time to help Ignis with washing the dishes. 

Iggy watched him carefully, handling the drying towel with his elegant, expert hands. “You missed breakfast this morning, Prompto.”

“I didn’t feel well,” he replied, handing over another wet plate. “Still don’t. I took a walk instead.”

“You didn’t eat yesterday morning either,” Iggy said, his voice calm and calculating. “Nor dinner last night.”

“I just feel sick, that’s all,” he told the advisor, looking up at him earnestly. 

Ignis pushed up his glasses. A nervous gesture, if he had one — the sports-model glasses almost never moved out of place. “I’m not ignorant of the new development in your relationship with Noctis.”

Prompto’s face flushed. “How…?”

“It’s obvious, to those of us who know you and Noctis well,” he replied. “My concern is that your new relationship has brought up old insecurities… and the disorder that follows.”

Anxiety rolled through the shooter’s stomach. Of course Ignis knew. “Thanks for being concerned, dude,” he said, in his usual easy-going voice. “But I’m fine. I guess it’s just anxiety.”

“I suppose we all have much to be anxious about in the current time.” Ignis gave him a long look. “I will maintain a vigilant surveillance on you, Prompto. I hope you realise that.”

He nodded. “Well, it’s okay. I’m not hiding an old disorder. I promise.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Thankfully, they were interrupted soon after.

“Cor called,” Gladio announced, “we’re meeting him in Hammerhead. Come help me pack up.”

***

“We’ll storm the castle,” Cor was explaining.”Cid is working on something to disable the MTs. When it’s ready, we’ll mobilize.” 

“How long will it take?” Noctis demanded impatiently. 

“Hard to tell,” the kingsguard answered. “He has a prototype, but it’s not yet finished. And it has to be tested first. Make sure it’s safe."

Ignis leaned forward. “What is it? Some kind of weapon?”

“More of a disruption device,” he answered. “Something to immobilize them. If Cid works it out right, it should be harmless to everyone else.”

“I’d be interested to find out the particulars,” Ignis said. 

“Take Prompto with you,” Noctis said, dismissing him with a gesture. “He’s the technophile, and he looks like he could do with some air anyway.”

Prompto didn’t argue. Astrals, he felt so _sick_. It seemed to be only getting worse. He wasn’t surprised when Ignis agreed, and led him out. The advisor had been keeping a shrewd eye on him, accompanying him on walks. He seemed content that Prompto wasn’t doing too badly with only lunch - he still looked healthy, though Prompto knew his muscle tone had decreased. 

His body had been _softening_ , he didn’t know how else to explain it. Or why it was happening. Noctis hadn’t said anything, but his hands had started absently stroking the hips that were beginning to bulge a little.

It was hard to ignore the rising insecurity about his weight. But he allowed himself to worry about it, to correct himself, and move on. Just like he was supposed to. When he was feeling better, he’d run with Gladio. The shield was always willing to help him train. Any of them train.

He listened to the mechanic as best as he could, but his attention kept slipping off. It was some kind of device, that would immobilise the MT troopers, a particular pitch that would resonate with something inside their armour. 

“I’ll keep working on it,” Cid said, sitting back from his worktable. “You lot look after the prince. They already have Reggie, who knows what they could do with both.”

Ignis nodded, said their thanks, and headed out. Prompto found himself wandering towards the diner. The nausea was passing, and he was starving. His mouth was watering as he thought about Takka’s crisp, salty fries. 

He didn’t get them. Cor, Noctis and Gladio were by the Regalia. There was a safe place, a house outside Caem. Cor would stay here, keep the plans going, wait until Cid was finished and they could be properly equipped. 

Prompto sat in the front seat, shifting restlessly. He could hardly drag his mind away, remembering those fries. The taste, the warmth, the crunch. 

“What’s up with you, ants in your pants?” Gladio growled, irritated, from the back seat. 

“I’m hungry,” he mumbled.

Ignis glanced at him, for just a moment, then turned his gaze back on the road. “Caem is several hours away.”

He sighed. He slumped down in the passenger seat, leaning his head against the headrest. The mountains and dust flew past, and then - it shifted. There were trees, rich and green. And then, that flash of yellow.

“Chocobos!” he gasped. He sat up properly, eyes bright. The gorgeous yellow birds, and the tiny fluffy chicks. So small, and precious. He turned to give Noctis a pleading look. “Can we? Can we?”

The prince gave him an indulgent smile. “Alright.”

***

His fatigues weren’t fitting properly. He tugged his jeans up higher, tugging his shirt down over his stomach. Then he tied the tartan higher, in case his shirt slipped up.

“Prompto?” He glanced back to see Noctis leaning against the door. His expression was serious, but there was a smile in his eyes. “We’re ready to go. Have you eaten?”

“I’m ready.” He headed over, giving Noctis a brief kiss before moving past him.

He didn’t get far before the prince was grabbing him, pulling him close into a lingering kiss. “When this is all over,” he murmured. “I’ll talk with my father. He’ll cancel my betrothal to Luna, and we can…”

“Noct…” He pulled away, reluctant. “You know you can’t. The marriage is _important_.” 

Noct’s hand moved down, wrapping around his wrist. “I know it’s not forever, Prompto. But I want all the time with you I can have.”

Right. Noct still thought he’d lose him to the Name on his wrist. Still thought he had one. 

“She’s the oracle. She has important duties. She won’t mind a delay.”

He sighed and kissed him again. “Come on. Cor and Cid are waiting in Hammerhead.”

  


“We have to test it first,” Cid said. “No guarantees it’ll work how we think it will. It might blow their brains up.”

“I don’t care,” Noctis said harshly. “The empire killed half the city. They’ve kidnapped my father, they’re holding him prisoner! I don’t care if we have to kill every one of them.” 

Ignis sighed. “Noctis, I implore you to keep a calm head about this.” He fiddled with the little machine, a modified radio receiver. “Besides. It might still cause _us_ damage.”

Noctis was still annoyed, but he nodded. “Fine,” he stood up. “The four of us will go test it. Ride out until we get spotted by a MT Engine.” 

“You should let us,” Cor said. “You’re important. If it goes wrong.”

“Then it won’t go wrong,” Noctis said, snatching the device from Ignis. “So, how does it work? I just push this down…?”

In that next moment, the only thing Prompto was aware of was _pain_. Such screaming pain. A high pitched squeal so loud and so sharp it hurt so _much_. He couldn’t move, couldn’t think. His brain was going to explode from it. He was going to _die_ and it _hurt_.

And then it was over. His ears were ringing, his head throbbing. His hands were clenched in his hair, some strands already tangled around his fingers. His side hurt, bruised with impact. He must’ve fallen over. But his head was resting on something soft. 

He pried open his eyes. Noct was kneeling, Prompto’s head on his lap. Massaging his temples, gently shushing him. “It’s okay, Prom,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

His tongue felt too big for his mouth, he could taste copper. Blood. He reached up with a badly shaking hand, touching underneath his nose. His fingers came away red. Nosebleed.

He was scared. Too terrified to ask what had happened. He knew, he _knew_. They’d know.

“Cid,” Ignis was saying calmly. “How did you construct the device? How did you narrow it down to the Magiteks?” 

The old mechanic grabbed his notes. “DNA,” he replied. “Blood samples. Found a sound frequency that agitated the cells.” 

“You tested it?” Ignis pressed. “Against multiple samples?”

“As many as I could get my hands on,” he replied. “From Altissia to Ravatogh. Even some of the Niffs, the ones who were left.”

Noctis glared up at them both, and snarled. “What are you two _talking about_?” He demanded.

“Magiteks aren’t born,” Ignis was explaining, his voice steady. Calm. Too calm. Prompto wanted to scream, wanted to tell him to stop. “They’re cloned, from a single source. Human, until they’re infected by daemons, given power - and then programmed to become the perfect infantry.”

Noctis only looked more angry. “What are you _saying_?”

“Noct,” Gladio said warily. “You should stand back.”

“Why would I do that?” He demanded. “Prompto is hurt! Your machine backfired and it hurt Prompto!”

Ignis put a hand down on Noctis’s shoulder. “It works, Noctis. It didn’t malfunction. It did exactly what it was supposed to.”

“But… Prompto.”

“Prompto.”

The confusion left Noct’s face. Twisting up into a mask of fury. He snatched up Prompto’s wrist - the blond didn’t resist. He slumped, defeated, as the prince unbuckled the leather straps around his wrist. Noct’s scream of rage, betrayal, tore a hole in his heart.

How many times? How many times had he _wished_ it had a name? Noct’s name. But it didn’t. It didn’t have a name at all. Only his barcode, his _designation_. 

Noct shoved him away, violently. His bruised side burst with pain anew as he landed on them again. He clenched his jaw tightly, stifling the cry of pain. “Traitor!”

“Noctis!” Ignis barked. “Calm down.”

“Calm down? _Calm down_?” Noctis demanded. “He’s one of them! He’s an MT!”

He pushed up his glasses. “Not precisely.”

Noctis grabbed a gun from Cid’s table, and Prompto held his hand up defensively. His other was trapped under his body, felt bruised and numb. He steadied the gun, pointed it directly between Prompto’s eyes. “Stand up, you magitek scum!”

“Noct,” he pleaded, trying to find his feet. 

The prince cocked it. “Don’t you dare call me that!” he snarled. “I should kill you!”

“Noct, calm down!” Gladio said, coming between the gun and Prompto. “Prompto hasn’t done anything.”

“He lied to us,” Noct growled. “He’s been infiltrating us this whole time! Probably feeding information to the Empire the whole time he’s been in Lucis!”

“Noctis, you can’t go executing him with baseless accusations,” Ignis said sternly. “He’s still a citizen of Insomnia. He needs to stand trial.”

Noctis barged past Gladio. He shoved the gun against Prompto’s head. “Run. You’re good at that right? You’re a _runner_.” 

“Prince Noctis,” he begged “Please…” The barrel of the gun pressed in, digging in a little tighter. “If I _ever_ see you again, it’ll be an act of treason and my guard will have no choice but to execute you, for my own safety. Got that, MT scum?”

“I’m sorry.”

Noctis pointed the gun at the roof and fired, before pressing it against Prompto’s head again. “I’m not joking. Run.” 

“My leg,” he mumbled.

The prince’s eyes softened, for just a moment. Then they hardened again. “Gladio,” he commanded. “Get the traitor on his feet. Take him to the Regalia, give him only what he owns and send him away. Then come back, and we’ll plan the assault.”

***

“Come on, Argentum,” a familiar voice called. “Come on. Up you get. You’ve got the noon-till-close shift.”

He woke up, thankfully in the downswing of his nausea. He’d have just enough time to grab food and get ready for his shift before he started work. He was working with Wiz today, he needed to do his best. The old man had given him his chance, when he was at his lowest.

He could still remember it. Half unconscious from pain and shock. Noctis had banished him. Sent him away, forever. Stolen his wrist-strap too, he could put a handkerchief on, cover it up - but what was the point? What was the point in hiding any more? He’d already lost everything. 

The chocobo he’d rented had headed automatically back home. He’d passed out just as they crested the hill - and woken up in bed. 

Wiz himself had been beside the bed, running a damp cloth over his forehead and dry lips. “There you are, boy,” he’d said. “Easy now. Keep calm. You were with the prince, weren’t you?”

“Not any more,” he mumbled. Astrals, he felt so _sick_. “I’m sorry. Thank you for helping me. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can.”

Wiz tucked the blankets back around him. “You will rest up, boy. We’ll talk again when you’re recovered.”

But when he was better, strong enough to stand on his own - all metaphorically, of course - Wiz didn’t send him away. He offered him a place, work. Even after showing him the barcode, explaining what he was - or rather what he wasn’t - Wiz hadn’t cared. So he worked here now, taking care of the chocobos, getting through day-by-day. 

The anxiety about Noct never went away. Every day he was sick to his stomach, almost all day. He could usually manage to eat at lunchtime, but for the rest of time the only thing he could keep down was - embarrassingly enough - chocobo feed. The nutrient-rich stuff they sold in the store for spoiled mounts, and to fat up growing chicks. 

But the work was good - kept his hands busy, kept him fit. His ribs healed, eventually, and the hearing came back in his left ear. He listened to the news every evening as he settled the chocobos into their nest-stalls for the night.

The Crown City of Insomnia was still under the Empire’s control. There’d been a small band of what the radio dubbed as ‘freedom fighters’ who’d made an attempt to reclaim the city for the kingsguard, but they hadn’t made it through the wall. There’d been MT casualties, but not on the other side. He rarely prayed, but he thanked the Astrals for that. There would be _word_ if Noctis had been captured, or killed. 

He was broken out of his thoughts as a brooding chocobo nudging at him with a happy warbling noise. He chuckled and ruffled her feathers. “Yes, yes, I’m here. With your greens.”

Wiz stuck his head out from another stall. “She likes you.” 

“I bring the food, of course she does,” Prompto replied. 

“No, it’s different,” the rancher said. “She’s taken with you. Hasn’t liked anyone that much since…” He trailed off.

“Since?” Prompto asked, tilting his head. 

“Well, since my wife passed,” he said as he disappeared back into the stall. “She’s due in the nursery this evening, to scan and see if she’s got an egg growing. I’ll set up, all you have to do is lead her to the nursery as the sun sets.” 

Prompto agreed. He finished settling the others in their nests, and then leading the brooding hen out to the hut. It was furnished differently - the veterinary machinery counterbalanced by plants and debris that made it look like one of the forest nesting havens. 

Wiz was waiting, the scanner set up and waiting. “Just bring her over here and stand her still as the scan works.”

“Is that...safe?” He asked uncertainly. 

Wiz nodded. “Of course. The delicate instrument is perfectly safe. You might feel a little tickle, but that’s the worst it would do.”

Prompto nodded. He held her carefully. She was calm though, standing still and giving the same soft little warble she always made. There was a low hum, and then the tingling sensation Wiz had promised. But it didn’t last long.

“Alright,” Wiz said calmly. “You can step out. It’s okay.”

Prompto stepped out, leaning on the chocobo’s side. “There you all, girl. Everything’s fine.”

Wiz gave a low hum, and murmured: “I thought so.” There was a low whirr as Wiz printed some information from the scan. “Prompto, come take a seat.”

“What is it?” He asked, walking around to join him. 

“Sit,” Wiz encouraged. He stood to let him take a seat by the machine. “Here. This is the result of a scan.”

Prompto looked it over. “She is then,” he said, trying to seek out the information. It definitely had a positive result, a growing life form. 

“I wasn’t scanning her.”


	2. Known To Some

Prompto’s fingers fumbled on the cellphone. But eventually he got the phone call connected. He held the cell to his ear, shaking with terror. Astrals, how was he supposed to do this?

The line connected. “Wiz, is there something you need?”

“Ignis.”

“Yes, speaking.”

Prompto shuddered. “You know it’s me and not-?”

“Yes, I am aware.” 

He sighed shakily. “I have some things,” he replied. “Some stuff of the prince’s. Would you…?”

“I suppose I can retrieve that for you,” the advisor’s voice was calm. Did nothing ever surprise him? “I’ll be by the chocobo post tomorrow. See you then, Wiz.”

  


Prompto was waiting, sitting by the shop. He was eating, anxious, munching on a bowl of feed mixed with Liedan peppers. He heard the sound of the Regalia, gods how he missed that car. His friends, that car, travelling. Feeling like he belonged, for once in his life. Like he had a family, for once. 

“Prompto.” 

He looked up. Ignis was standing nearby. He looked tired. Time on the road must be wearing on them all “Ignis…” He swallowed. “I mean, Chancellor Scientia.” He ought not be so familiar with him, now that the truth was out.

The advisor sat down across from him. “I can’t stay for long. We’ll be on our way to Caem tomorrow, and I’d prefer to be well-rested.”

He nodded, ashamed. “Right. You didn’t have to come. You have other priorities. Much more important ones.”

Ignis sighed and pulled off his glasses, getting out a cloth to clean them. “Given the time period between your departure and the call, there’s been some significant change in your circumstances. We’re about to leave the mainland for a significant amount of time. If you were relocating, I didn’t want to risk losing contact.” He slid the glasses back on. 

Wiz interrupted them, taking Ignis’s lunch order, and disappearing again.

“I’ve boxed up the stuff,” Prompto said, quietly handing over the box of stuff. “The Crownsguard fatigues, my issued weapons, the phone, and some gifts Noct… the prince gave me over the years.” 

Ignis opened the lid of the box and frowned slightly. He took out the camera, and Prompto look away, squeezing his eyes closed. “Your camera.” 

“It was a present,” he whispered. “He wouldn’t want me to have it any more.”

The prince’s advisor was still frowning. “Photography is your passion.”

“I still have my old camera,” he answered, shrugging. Sure he did, packed up somewhere in his stuff in his guardians’ house in Crown City. “You know you don’t have to worry about me, Ig- Chancellor. I’m not a threat to anyone here.”

Ignis stared him down for a few moments. “We are friends,” he said calmly. “Your disagreement with Noct might have separated us for an indefinite future, but I have maintained my feelings of goodwill.” 

Prompto stared at him in disbelief. “I betrayed you. I lied to all of you. I’m a traitor.”

“I don’t consider any of that to be truth,” Ignis responded. “In time, when the political turmoil has settled, Noct will come to see it differently as well.” 

He took a shaky breath. He slid his hand off the table, pressing tight against his abdomen. “I hope so.” He closed his eyes. “Ignis… what do you know about Magiteks?”

“A tolerable amount,” the advisor answered. “More than the layman, anyway.” He waited, expectantly for the rest of the question.

He shifted nervously, his other hand stirring the greens and peppers around his bowl with the two-pronged fork. “What do you know about the...replication?” He winced at his own phrasing. 

“Not much,” Iggy admitted. “That’s the most secretive part,” he conceded. “It has been supremely difficult for the royal guard to discover information towards the cloning process. What information we have about the Magitek facility is nearly two decades old. The,” he hesitated a moment, “The Argentum Reports.”

“...right. Okay.” He swallowed. “I was a baby when they took me. I don’t… remember anything.”

Ignis hummed, waiting until Wiz had left again to speak. “From what we can tell,” he begun. “After two or three years, the...clones,” he shifted his glasses up, “are infected with some sort of daemon virus. They’re placed into stasis, where their growth is accelerated. They are at full growth potential the infantry have some sort of year-length seclusion, the purpose of which is unknown. Then the percolation of the virus is agitated, and their human forms are consumed until all that is left is the daemon core.” 

Prompto shivered. That’s what would have happened to him. If the Argentum agents hadn’t happened to pass _his_ nursery capsule at the right moment. He wouldn’t have a name, or thoughts or… or…

“They’re all male, you know that?” He whispered. 

Ignis pushed up his glasses again. “They’re all cloned from the same source.” He looked at him. “The science still escapes us.”

Prompto stared up at the blue sky. “I don’t think it’s that different than the normal way.”

“Prompto?”

“You’d know. There has to be a plan in place, right? If a prince gets someone pregnant. Someone inappropriate.”

There was a stunned silence. A long moment where Ignis calculated everything he knew, everything Prompto had hinted. “That would answer the question about how to encourage cells to multiply into the correct form.” Ignis stared at Prompto, the blond could feel the intensity of his gaze. “You’re…”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice cracking. 

“And Noct is definitely…?”

Prompto shot him a glare. “ _Yes_. There hasn’t been anyone else. Ever.”

Ignis was pushing up his glasses again. “I suspected as much.” He folded his arms, sitting back in his chair. “Normally, I’d be obligated to inform the king, and he would make the decision about what to do with you.”

“What to do with me?” Prompto echoed. 

“That wasn’t meant to sound so ominous. Where to house you, whether to legitimize the child, what your position should be in the court - things like that.” Ignis thought for a long moment. “I should tell Noct.”

“No!” he cried, panicked. “You can’t!”

Ignis scowled. “He has a right to know, Prompto.”

He shook his head. “He wouldn’t care, he wouldn’t want to know,” he said. He looked at Ignis. “Try,” he challenged, “tell him you have some news about me. He won’t want to hear it. You know he won’t.”

The advisor sighed. He opened the box and took the phone back out, sliding it across the outdoor table. “Keep this. I’ll need to keep in contact with you.” He stood, looking at him steadily. “Do you need anything?”

He gave a weak smile. “Don’t worry about me, Iggy. Wiz is taking good care of me.” He pulled at the blond hair sticking up from his head. “Another lost chocobo with young on the way.”

***

A month passed. The nausea - the _morning sickness_ had worn off. The cravings had only increased, but it was bearable. He could work in the kitchen now, though he still spent time out with the chocobos. The brooding hens were affectionate - like they could tell. The chicks were happy to swarm him too. 

And then, out of nowhere, he heard a too-familiar sound: the purr of the Regalia. It was late afternoon, and he was brushing down a chocobo who’d just been returned from a seven day rental period. 

But the sound of the car had him freezing up, terrified. He ducked behind the chocobo’s neck, hands shaking. He steadied them on the brush and took a deep breath. Maybe they’d come for lunch, or to stock up on chocobo feed. A quick stop to the main structure, they wouldn’t come round the back here, wouldn’t find him. 

If only he’d be so lucky. “There he is,” Gladio announced. “You can just get it out of the saddle bag.” 

No, no, no. Oh no. He gave a terrified glance at the saddle resting on the wooden fence. Too close. Damn it, no. He pressed tight against the chocobo’s neck, so he couldn’t be seen from the saddle. 

Which only worked as long as long as it took for the drake to get bored of not being brushed and walk away from him towards its nest. Prompto tried to follow. 

“Oh, good afternoon. Didn’t spot you there!” Gladio called. 

He glanced down. The apron he was wearing had a pocket at the front, and it was bulging with grooming essentials and high-protein feed. They wouldn’t assume, and only Ignis knew what they could be looking for. 

He took a deep breath and turned around. “Sir Amicitia, Chancellor Scientia -” He took only a momentary glance, out of the corner of his eye. “Prince of Lucis.” 

A sharp, slicing pain - a sword plunging into his shoulder, followed a moment later by Noctis warping into place to join it. He pushed the blade deeper and Prompto let out a strangled cry of pain. 

“Noct!” Ignis shouted, sounding angry. 

“I warned you, Magitek! I told you to _get out_. If I ever saw you again, I’d kill you.”

Prompto writhed. “Mercy,” he pleaded.

“Noctis, you can’t attack someone unarmed!” the advisor scolded. “Release him.” 

“We know he’s not unarmed, he’s got his gun,” Noctis growled. 

Gladio approached, putting a heavy hand down on the prince’s shoulder. “He handed in his weapons, his fatigues. Does he look like someone who is trying to fight back?”

There was a long moment. Prompto looked up at Noct’s face, miserable and in pain. The prince’s expression struggled with itself, to kill down the anger and replace it with a cold neutral. The weapon vanished and he tossed a potion at Prompto. Towards his good arm, anyway. 

“Gladio, take Noct back to the car.” Ignis commanded. “I’ll deal with Prompto.” Prompto sunk against the fence, feeling every pulse of blood from his shoulder. Ignis knelt beside him, pressing an absorbent bandage to the wound. “The potion, it may not be safe.” 

“I know,” he answered weakly. “I take it Noct didn’t want to know then,” he gave a bitter laugh. He hissed in pain as Ignis numbed the wound for stitches. He looked away, staring at a yellow feather caught in the fence. “And The Shield?” 

“Gladio knows you handed in your officials,” Ignis answered. “But I did not presume to inform him of your condition.” There was a snick of scissors, then he pulled away. “There’s a medic here who can keep an eye on that?”

“Yeah.” He pulled his sleeve back up. “If I’d known you were coming, I wouldn’t have—”

“I was driving,” he said, apologetically, “I couldn’t get you the message.” He paused a moment. “Stay safe, Prompto. The airships have been more and more frequent lately. Noct is at large and the empire seems intent on capturing him.”

Prompto used his hand to help himself back onto his feet. “I will… watch out for him, won’t you? Don’t let them get him.”

He smiled. “I will. I’ve got my eyes on him.”

***

Prompto’s shoulder mended. It ached constantly, and it was stiff to move. He tried to exercise it daily, get the movement back. Wiz wouldn’t let him do anything extraneous - so he spent most of the day grooming the chocobos or taking photos for the tourists who went past. At least he could still do _some_ photography, even if it was just tourist snaps in front of the chocobos. 

Would this be the rest of his life? Forced to do less and less as a royal grew in a womb he never knew he had? Because _women_ died in childbirth, and their bodies were far better equipped to deal with it. Obviously surgery was the only option for him, but what were the chances of his surviving that? MTs weren’t exactly resilient, and he didn’t have half the mods they did.

“You’re quiet today, Argentum.”

He glanced up at Wiz. “Am I? I haven’t noticed.” He put down the feather-comb, massaging his shoulder painfully. “I’m getting more and more tired lately,” he said. “Is that normal?” 

The older man chuckled. “Yeah,” he replied. “Very common.” He touched his other shoulder. “Go get some rest. I can finish this on my own.”

He was reluctant, but he didn’t have the energy to keep working. He headed out to the cafe, grabbing some lunch. He’d eat, and rest, try and get some work done tomorrow. 

He was halfway through his steak when he heard frantic footsteps. He looked up just in time to see Gladio and Ignis rushing to put Noct on the table. His side was scraped open, and his head lolled about - half-conscious. 

“We need chocobos,” Gladio panted, addressing Wiz. “Three of them - the fastest long-distance ones you’ve got.” 

Ignis steadied Noct. “Hold him still, Gladio. Potions, we need potions. Supplies.” He hurried off, towards the shop. 

Gladio did his best, but he had to go with Wiz to get the birds. Prompto watched, intending to keep out of it. But as soon as Noct began to slump, fall off, he was rushing to steady him. 

Noct’s head lolled back, and his eyes cracked open. A little smile crossed his lips. “Prom,” he slurred. One hand reached up, stroking his knuckles against the blond’s cheek. And then he slumped with a harsh hiss of pain. 

“I’ve got you,” he murmured. He reached into his apron pocket, fished out the potion he’d been thrown last time they were all here. He crushed it in his fist, the spray misting over Noct’s ribs. He watched as the scrapes - clawed marks, he guessed - healing over impossibly fast. The work of Noct’s magic, imbibed in the remedy. Even his shirt repaired itself.

Prompto backed away, tucking himself out of sight at another table. Ignis came back, seemed relieved to see the prince all healed up. “The confusion will wear off soon, your highness,” Ignis said, supported Noct back onto his feet. “Come on. Help Gladio with the chocobos.”

Once Noct was off, Prompto sat back down with shaky hands. Noct had been hurt. Not particularly serious, but injured. Ignis and Gladio hadn’t been enough to protect him - and they’d run out of potions, or had to leave them behind. 

“Prompto.” He looked up to see Ignis sit across from him. “Are you well?”

He nodded. “Just shaken. What’s happening?”

“The empire has some sort of bioscanner following the Regalia,” he explained. “We have to ditch the car, hence the chocobos.”

He swallowed, and glanced at Noct standing with Gladio. “MTs?” 

Ignis nodded. “We got away, but they got a few good hits in.” He pushed up his glasses.”We had to abandon the car.”

“Leave the keys with me,” he offered. “I’ll park it at Hammerhead,”

Ignis handed him over the keys. “Thank you. Drive slow, don’t take unnecessary risks.”

Prompto nodded. ‘Yeah, I will. Don’t worry about me.” He glanced over at Noct, then back to the blond. “How are things coming along?” He gave a meaningful glance towards his abdomen. 

“Yeah, that’s fine too,” he said quietly. “I’m tired a lot more now, but I can eat whenever i want. Much better.”

Ignis nodded, some sort of tension eased around his mouth and eyes. “How long has it been now?” He asked carefully. 

“Six months,” he answered.

Ignis pushed up his glasses. “We should find a safe location for you, with a midwife on hand. A wet-nurse, when the time comes.”

“Is that the plan?” He asked. “The Royal Plan?”

“No, but I haven’t had time to make any proper enquiries or arrangements.”

He smiled tiredly. “Running around with Noct is a full time job. I remember.” 

Ignis stood as Gladio and Noct began to mount the chocobos. “Once we’ve found a safe house, I’ll make arrangements for you. Lestallum, perhaps. Though that may be too crowded, too many eyes and ears. I shall have to think.”

“I’ll leave it to you.”

Ignis bowed, and hurried to catch up with Gladio and Noct. He watched them ride away, and wondered if he’d ever see them all again.

***

Ignis had made the arrangements. A small beach house on Galdin Quay - far enough from the main crowd, but close enough to not be watched. Ignis gave Wiz a very generous donation as thanks for taking care of Prompto - which he complained about, but did accept.

Seven months, he was exhausted. Ignis was driving, and even though he was careful normally, he seemed on high alert. Prompto wanted to tell him he wasn’t made of glass, but he understood the caution. Royal bastard on board, and all that. They’d been driving for two hours, and Ignis had just turned into the tunnel that would take them through to the quay.

“You’ll have to excuse me soon,” Ignis said calmly, “I won’t have very long to settle you in. Noct is expecting me back at the safe house before sunset.”

“It’s okay,” Prompto reassured him. He held his hands protectively over his stomach. Something pushed back - a hand or a foot. The unborn Lucis had been overactive lately. He didn’t know if his son would actually be claimed as a Lucis, or whether he’d end up an Argentum. He hummed, a faint smile on his lips. “Lucis Argentum.” 

Ignis glanced at him for a moment, before refocusing on the road. “And if the king wants to legitimize?” He asked.

“Argentum Lucis Caelum,” he paused. “The hundred and fifteenth?”

“Perhaps.” He frowned slightly. “Keep quiet. There’s some kind of block at the end of the tunnel.” He slowed the Regalia to a stop and turned off the engine. “Stay in the car. Don’t make a sound.” 

Prompto zipped his mouth and settled back in the seat. Ignis climbed over the door so nobody could hear the sound of the door and slipped down the tunnel. 

He closed his eyes. He was so tired. How much longer would it take to get to the new place? Ignis said Dino had set the place up, so it should have all the comforts he needed. He just hoped the bed was comfortable. He’d be spending the rest of his life there. anyway.

He opened his eyes, adrenaline shooting through him. That was too many footsteps, too heavy. There, in the side mirror, he saw a small battalion of MTs approaching from the other end of the tunnel. 

He sunk down as low as he could into the seat. If he’d been thinner, more manoeuvrable, he would curl up in the footwell and hide until they went away. He slid his phone out and dialled Ignis’s number, hiding the phone in the cupholder. 

He felt an MT gun pressed against his head. “Exit the vehicle.” The voice was carefully modulated, but underneath he could hear how much it sounded like his own. 

He held his hands up and opened the door, standing out of the car. “Don’t shoot,” he said, standing still.

That garnered on response. “Initiating bio-scan.” A green line started at his fingertips, and slid down to his wrist before it beeped loudly. “Rogue unit identified, terminate immediately.”

“No no no!” he shouted, panicked. “You can’t. It’d be treason!”

That seemed to confuse the MTs. He could distantly hear Ignis shouting - from his phone, and echoing down the tunnel. 

“Take me to your commander,” he insisted. 

“Prompto!” Ignis shouted.

The butt of a gun smacked into the back of his head, and he was out.

  


He woke up, arms stretched high above his head. His shoulders were screaming in pain, especially the injured one. He stood up on his feet, easing the strain and sobbing in relief. The panic didn’t start winding down until he felt a familiar jab to his kidneys. 

“Idiots!” an unfamiliar voice barked. “You were told to capture the prince and kill anyone else!” 

A door burst open and Prompto winced as light pierced his eyes. When his eyes adjusted, he took a deep, shaky breath. “Ravus. Ravus Nox Fleuret.”

The man - commander of the imperial army - frowned at him. “How do you know my name?” He approached. 

“My name is Prompto,” he explained, straining to pull his arms down to ease his shoulders. “I know Lunafreya. Well, I haven’t met her, but we were pen pals…” 

Ravus turned the light on and scowled. “You look like one of the clones,” he pointed out.

“I am,” he said. “I grew up in Insomnia…”

Ravus moved to one of the machines, pressing some buttons. “Why didn’t the MTs kill you? They have orders to eliminate rogue units.”

“They were about to,” he said. “But they can’t, well I told them they can’t and they listened.”

“And why would you tell them that, Unit?” The commander demanded.

He shifted, looking at him earnestly. “I’m pregnant.” 

“So you escaped the facility during your duplication cycle,” Ravus said, unimpressed. “Where’s Prince Noctis, Unit?” He demanded. “Our bio-scanner searches the Regalia for Prince Noctis and alerts us of his location. Where was he going during his escape?”

Prompto shifted on his feet. “Noct was never in the car,” he replied. “It was only me and Iggy.”

The commander glared at him. “We had a bio-scan.”

Prompto avoided his eyes. “How accurate is the scan?” He asked.

“What sort of question is that?” Ravus demanded.

He watched him, then moved his gaze down to his protruding stomach. The guy had to be smart enough to work out. 

The commander glared suspiciously and stepped around to face him. “Tell me everything, Unit.”


	3. Known To Most

Prompto never thought he’d see The Crown City again. As soon as the empire had used the signing of the treaty as opportunity to forcefully take the capital, he doubted when they took it back he’d ever be allowed to return to the city. That they would tighten security measures, and Prompto wouldn’t get through. When he’d been forced into the realisation that he was pregnant, he didn’t think he’d live to come back.

But here he was. Being walked through the doors of the castle, a fleet of Magiteks walking him by force. Hands tight around his hands and shoulders, pressing in bruises. But they were surprisingly careful about his midsection — had they been commanded to do so, or was that just something they did instinctively?

They shoved him through the doors of a familiar bedroom. One he’d been in once or twice during high school. The door was closed behind him, and he was surprised not to hear the click of the lock. 

He could barely spare a thought to think about where he was. He crawled into the bed of Prince Noctis and fell asleep.

When he woke up, it was dark in the room. The door was opening and settling back into his frame. 

“Noctis?” A familiar voice whispered.

He sat up a little. “...King Regis?” He asked, confused.

“Prompto,” the king said, sounding relieved. “Is Noct safe?”

He pulled the blankets up over his neck. “I assume so,” he said quietly. “Ignis said they have a safe-house. They were fine on Wednesday, I know that much.”

The king sat on the edge of the mattress, groaning as he stretched out his leg - carefully supported in a leg brace. “I apologise for my unexpected intrusion,” he said politely, “But I heard the emperor say that he had finally acquired both the current and future kings. I thought they’d captured Noct.”

“No.” He took a deep, shaky breath. Then he pulled down the blanket and carefully cupped his hands around his swollen stomach. “This is what he meant.”

The king took a calm, steadying breath. “How is this possible?” He asked.

He couldn’t look the king in the eyes. “I’m a magitek, sire.” He expected shouts, for the king to call what guards there were and have him thrown out of the prince’s rooms. But the silence dragged on, and he looked up to see the King watching him expectantly. “Sire?”

“Well, of course I know that. The Argentums were friends of mine. I’ve always known where you came from. That hardly explains the conception of my grandchild.”

“R-right.” The king _knew_? And had still allowed him to be friends with Noct?! That was unexpected. “This is… Magitek clones are able to do this. There aren’t any female clones, you see…”

The king looked calm and considering. What the kwek was happening here? “I suppose that answers the mystery of their initial conception.”

Prompto pulled the blanket close. “You’re not going to ask for proof that it’s his?” He whispered, uncertain.

“I’ve seen the way you two look at each other,” he answered. “More longing than half the soulmates in the court. No, I don’t doubt the paternity at all.” He sobered, looking out the window. “I suppose my son will be launching another foolhardy attempt to retake the Citadel now?” 

Prompto frowned, confused. “No? I mean, I don’t know that he won’t, but I don’t see why _now_.”

King Regis gave him a studious look. “He doesn’t know, then.”

He shifted restlessly as the future Lucis kicked him in the kidneys. “No,” he answered. “He banished me when he found out I was an MT. Ignis — that is, Chancellor Scientia, he knows. Some people from the chocobo post know I am, but not who…” He trailed off. “Ignis was making arrangements,” he started again, “a safehouse, and a wet-nurse in Galdin Quay. Your grandson would be safe there, until things had settled down and Ignis could find out whether you wanted to recognise him or not.”

“I think we will soon find that the decision is out of my hands,” the king said solemnly. “The Emperor holds the strings here now, I am little more than a pretty face while he organises everything behind the scenes. If he’s brought you here, it’s to secure his rule.”

Prompto felt tired. So, very tired. “They have a bio-scan, I’d never be able to escape.”

“I’d never expect you to, not in your condition. How long left until…?”

“Two months,” he replied. 

Regis put a fatherly hand on his shoulder. “I’ll have them prepare the royal nurseries. You’ll both be well looked after, so long as I stand.”

He gave a weak smile. “Thanks, Your Majesty.”

“Rest,” the king insisted. “I will sort the particulars.”

The king was still in his room when Prompto left, neatening the blankets around him.

***

At the palace, Prompto was taken care of, but confined. He was allowed one walk a day, out in the gardens, but he was closely followed by a woman named Aranea and her two flunkies Biggs and Wedge. 

She was fun. She had an acid wit and was in no way afraid to speak her mind. She was the kind of person he could see himself chasing after once upon a time, knowing things wouldn't have worked out with Noctis. But he didn't even flirt now - heavy with a future king, the least attractive he'd been since high school, with about another month until he died in childbirth. 

And then a month in, waddling slowly through the gardens, he heard shouts and commotion from the gates. “What's going on?”

Aranea gave Biggs a significant look, and he disappeared to speak over the comms to find out the situation. In a few moments, he came back. “The Emperor requires his presence in the throne room,” he murmured to Aranea. Loud enough for Prompto to hear. 

She nodded. “Come on, blondie. You've got summons.”

He was almost scared to ask why. He adjusted the loose robe around him — at least he was dressed nicely today. There was always people in the throne room, the Emperor liked for them to pretend the kingdom was still running perfectly under his rule. Regis held court, took audiences. Everything he had done in the past. But as a shade of his old self.

The throne room was surprisingly empty of people. Only a couple dozen people milling around the edges — and then kneeling in front of the throne, surrounded by Magiteks, was Prince Noctis Lucis Caelum, CXIV. He jolted, tried to move backwards — but Biggs and Wedge held his arms to keep him in place. 

Noct’s face twisted up in fury. “You!” he snarled. “I should’ve known you were part of this the whole time!”

The emperor actually snorted. “This failure? If any part of my plans had been trusted to that useless idiot, they’d have fallen through years ago. But his mistakes gave me a new path to victory.”

Prompto only winced. He knew it was true, but it didn’t need to be said out in the open like that. What was the emperor going to do? He had Regis, and in a few weeks he’d have the next in line. Would he _kill_ Noct?

Noct struggled in the grip of the MTs, aiming to get back to his feet. But one kicked at his weaker leg and sent him back to his knees. Prompto jolted forward instinctively, wanting to help him. But the hands of Aranea’s lackeys kept him from moving forward. 

“Stop,” King Regis’s voice filled the room. He was limping forward from the door, hand tight around the golden cane. “Unhand the prince,” he commanded. 

The Emperor looked displeased, but he made a gesture that the MTs took to stand down. Their guns were still aimed at Noct, though. It was an old instinct to try and place himself between his best friend and the danger. But even if they would let him move, he had to protect more than Noct right now. 

“You will need to keep Prince Noctis unharmed,” the king announced.

“The Prince is useless to me,” the Emperor answered. “I ought to have him executed.” But he hadn’t yet. So why was he hesitating?

“Not if you want to properly secure the line,” King Regis answered. “Blood is not everything in our laws of succession.”

The Emperor looked sour. “Very well.” He gestured to the MTs. “Have the prince escorted to his chambers and guarded carefully.”

Noct struggled against them, but the MTs dragged him out of the throne room. 

The Emperor turned a bitter gaze at Prompto, then looked sternly at King Regis. “The line of succession will be secured,” he said. “You will ensure it.”

“They’ll have to be married.”

Prompto choked at the king’s calm announcement. “ _What_?”

“We’ve had kings in the past with many children outside of wedlock. Precedent states the child born in marriage has the greatest claim to the throne.”

“A marriage it is then,” the Emperor pronounced. 

“But what about Luna?” Prompto demanded. Both men ignored him. “A quick ceremony before the birth will not do, we must conduct the formal royal wedding.”

Regis nodded. “There will be public outcry. The populace were pleased with the idea of a wedding to Lady Lunafreya.”

“You will leave that to me,” the Emperor replied. “The MT is almost to term, time is of the essence. You will have your staff prepare for a wedding by the end of the week.”

“A week?!” Prompto choked. 

The Emperor gave an impatient sigh. “Commodore Highwind. We cannot allow the future prince-consort to become too distressed.”

That was just a polite way of commanding her to take Prompto out. He was too tired to fight, just let Biggs guide him back out. 

But when he realised where they were taking him, he began to struggle against his hands. “No, wait! I can’t…”

“You know our orders, Blondie,” Aranea said quietly. “If you’re not in the gardens, you’re in the room.”

“I can’t,” he whimpered. “What about the nursery? Take me there.”

“Sorry, Blondie. I’ll try and get approval later.” There were already guards posted outside the door, but they didn’t try to stop him as he was handed inside and the door slammed and locked behind him. 

He’d never been locked in before. It aggravated his claustrophobia just a little. 

“Go away.” Noct wasn’t even looking at him. He was sprawled on the bed, an arm cast over his face. 

_Would if I could, bud._

He didn’t know what to do. He just stayed silent as he crossed over to the couch and curled up on his side. He grabbed one of the throw pillows and hugged it tightly.

He’d always known how to act around the prince before. Exactly how far to push a joke to cheer him up, when to babble on to distract him, or nudge him to talk about on his mind. But that was before Noct discovered what he was, before he’d named him a traitor and threw him out. He couldn’t _be_ Noct’s best buddy any more. 

He was gonna end up being his kweking _husband_ though, up until he left him a widower single parent anyway… At least he’d be taken care of. It wasn’t Iggy’s plan of hiding him out in Leide and keeping him safe. It _was_ bringing him directly into a dangerous political mess. 

He fell asleep, despite the anxiety clawing at him. It never took much for him to sleep these days. 

When he woke up some time later, there was a blanket tucked over his shoulders to keep him warm. 

  


When he woke up, his brain was thick and sticky like wild honey. He’d fallen asleep on the couch again and his back was killing him. Ugh. 

There was nothing for it then. Bath time. He waddled towards the luxurious bathroom. He had a lot to complain about, being imprisoned in the Citadel until he’d finished gestating, but having access to the crown prince’s bathroom was not one of them. 

The bath was the size of a small swimming pool — deep enough for him to stand up to his shoulders, but long enough for him to float if he wanted to.

He was generous with the bubble bath. He preferred scalding hot water, but that wasn’t allowed so late in his pregnancy. That much shock to the body wasn’t good for the future king. 

It was warm, barely hot. He slipped into the water with a sigh as the warmth sunk into his aching muscles. He floated among the bubbles, hands smoothing over the roundness of his belly. 

He was too big to kick and punch any more, but Prompto did smile when he felt what was probably an elbow pressing back into his hand. “Be good,” he told the baby. “And humble. Don’t let the empire turn you into a snob.”

He got a nudge back in response. 

He floated until the water was tepid, and his back didn’t hurt so much any more. Then he stood up and reached for the soap and washcloth. 

He was scrubbing his shoulders clean when the door opened and Noct walked straight in. They stared at each other awkwardly, for maybe a whole long minute. Then Noct yawned, breaking their gaze, and shuffled sleepily over to the toilet behind the screen. Well. That was kweking awkward. 

Noct didn’t talk to him until he was back across the room, washing his hands. “So. They stick you in here to spy on me?”

Prompto just rolled his eyes. Of course he’d think that. “Ye _p_ ,” he replied, popping the p. “Right now I’m conducting a _thorough_ investigation of your bathtub.”

Noct snorted slightly, drying his hands and heading back towards the door. Prompto went back to ignoring him, carefully running the cloth carefully over the ugly scar tissue on his shoulder. 

The prince’s footsteps came to a stop, a shaky breath escaping his lips. “What the fuck happened there?” He sounded almost like his old self. 

Prompto covered as much of the scar as he could with his palm and fingers. “Are you for real?” He deadpanned. “You warp-stabbed me, dude. Did you seriously forget?”

“But I… you…” Noct’s eyes were practically lasering through his hand as if he could still see the scarring. “I gave you a potion. Right away.”

He took a deep breath and went back to washing his upper body. 

“So why did it scar? You’ve gotten worse hits in training.”

Prompto didn’t reply, scooping off water to wash off the suds. 

“Prompto?” Noct pressed. “You didn’t use the potion did you?”

He just silently shook his head. 

Noct gave a heavy sigh and stomped out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Prompto sighed and rubbed the rounded expanse of his belly. “Let’s hope you don’t get his temper.”


	4. Known to Many

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why I try and put a chapter number on things at the beginning.

When Prompto came out of the bathroom, dressed and ready for the day, Aranea was waiting by the door tapping her foot impatiently. 

“Take long enough, Blondie?” 

“Pregnant,” he deadpanned. Because yes that should excuse him from everything. 

She rolled her eyes at him. “Come on. You have a family brunch to attend.” 

“Great. That’s just great.” He could imagine who would be there and he was not looking forward to it. But hey, at least it was getting out of the bedroom. 

Noct was already gone so he assumed he’d already been escorted to the dining room. Well at least they didn’t have to have an awkward walk along the hallways together. Brunch would be awkward enough. 

(And wasn’t it still early enough for breakfast? Why did people always have to fancy shit up with brunch??) 

A pair of MTs opened the door for him. Noct glanced at him as he entered, and quickly away. He tried not to let it hurt. He scooted in his chair into the table and draped the cloth napkin over his belly and lap. 

“Good morning Prompto,” Regis greeted with a fond smile. “How did you sleep?” 

“Yeah, okay. Fell asleep on the couch. Back was killing me, but it’s okay now.” 

Regis’s lips turned down just slightly. He turned his gaze on Noct with a disapproving look. The prince squirmed in place, folding and refolding his napkin. 

“Well. You’ll have to try and remember to make it to the bed next time,” the king said calmly. 

“When’s the food coming?” Noct complained. An obvious attempt to change the subject. 

“Patience,” Regis said calmly. “Sometimes the wisest course of option is to wait for the right time.” He didn’t sound like he was talking about their meal. 

The prince pulled a face, and went back to fiddling with his napkin. An awkward silence fell over the table. It was only broken when the door opened and a servant walked in with a food trolley with covered trays. Cloches, the lids were called. He blamed Iggy for the fact he knew that. 

They served him first, lifting off the cloche to show his plate — a folded omelet stuffed with all kinds of veggies and a healthy smoothie. 

He picked up his fork to dig in — if he was meant to wait for the king they wouldn’t have served him first. 

“Well. You can tell the Empire made sure _you’ve_ been eating well.” Noct’s voice was snide, judgemental… not cruel in tone, but the words. The words cut him down to the core. 

_He doesn’t know_ , he told himself. Prompto knew he was plump again. (He didn’t let himself use words like _fat_ or _heavy_ — because he knew what they did to him.) But it wasn’t his choice. He needed to gain all this weight, eat all this food, for the baby. Little Argentum. 

But Noct didn’t know. And he’d just made a joke about his weight. Who _was_ he? His best friend knew he couldn’t make those kind of jokes. Iggy still did, but Noct’s hand on his arm used to soothe some of the sting. 

He realised slowly that his hands were clenched around the handle of the fork, metal bending under his hold. 

“Oh, Six. Prompto, _no_!” Noct sounded devastated. “That wasn’t… I didn’t mean…” He took a deep breath. “I was looking at your _plate_.” 

“Don’t,” he begged weakly. “Just leave me alone.” 

He forced every bite of food past his lips, because he didn’t want to deal with the Emperor’s temper if word got back to him that he hadn’t eaten. Even if he hated every moment of it, even if it felt like he could feel every calorie sinking down his throat and straight to his ass and thighs. 

The rest of the room was awkwardly silent, other than the clink of cutlery. When he was done, leaving only a few crumbles of egg and bread on his plate, he sat back. 

The King’s Iggy equivalent came in and handed him a newspaper. He sipped his tea and unfolded the newspaper in the other hand. His entire posture stiffened as he read the headline. 

“King Regis?” He asked, concerned. 

He handed the newspaper off to the chamberlain, who began to read it aloud. “The United Empire was shocked by news early this morning to learn that Lady Lunafreya, formerly the princess of Tennebrae, has eloped with her soulmate Nyx Ulric.” 

Noct choked. “What?” He demanded. 

“Listen, Noct,” King Regis said firmly. 

“Lady Lunafreya was previously betrothed to Prince Noctis of Lucis in faith of the peace treaty. The prince made this comment: ‘while I am disappointed that Lady Lunafreya has chosen not to honour her commitment, I am understanding of her actions. We are working with the Emperor to find a way to honour the terms. I still believe in this treaty, and will do whatever it takes to see it through.’ Lady Lunafreya was not available for comment.” 

“Funny,” Noct hissed through clenched teeth. “I don’t remember making that statement.” 

“Thank you,” King Regis said, dismissing his chamberlain with a gesture. “You can return to the wedding preparations.” 

“Wedding—?” Noctis demanded. “You’re not serious! The emperor just engineered Luna’s fake elopement, what do you mean wedding?” 

The king looked between the two young men and cleared his throat. “Your wedding to Prompto, as per the Emperor’s order.” 

Noct choked. He choked and he coughed and he coughed and coughed and coughed until the server came over and tapped him on the back until a seed popped out and bounced across the table. “What the **fuck** —?” 

“Language, Noct,” the King said disapprovingly. “You and I will discuss the matter at our meeting this afternoon. I’m due in the throne room for the daily audience.” 

“Dad, you can’t just—” 

“Later, Noctis,” the king replied firmly, giving the serving staff a pointed look. 

“Fine,” the prince muttered sourly. 

Prompto set down the glass with the dregs of his breakfast smoothie. “Thanks for breakfast, your majesty,” he said quietly, wishing he wasn’t heard. 

“Of course, Prompto,” the king said with an almost affectionate smile. “I’m glad that you could join us.” 

“Why are you being _nice_ to him?” Noct demanded. 

“Why are **you** being unkind?” 

Prompto was almost grateful when he felt Biggs’s arm on his shoulder. He scraped his chair back and painstakingly pushed himself up to his feet. He felt so heavy. No wonder Noct was making fat jokes at his expense, that the thought of marrying him was so disgusting. 

He could _feel_ Noct’s judgemental eyes on him as he waddled out of the room. Breakfast sat heavy in his stomach. 

“You doing okay, Blondie?” Aranea asked, eyeing him. “You don’t look too good.” 

“When do I ever?” He asked. “Can we go the long way back to the room?” 

By the time he got back — cankles feeling swollen, back aching and knees about ready to give up for life — Noct was already there. 

“You good, kid?” Aranea asked, eyeing Prompto in an almost protective way. 

He nodded, resigned, and watched as she closed the door and locked it, by the sound of it. 

“Prompto,” Noctis said, before he even had a chance to move. He was standing by the window — curtains bolted closed — and turned side on to look at the blond by the door. 

“Yep. That’s me, bro.” He started to waddle his way over to the bed so he could lie down. 

“I…” Noct hesitated. “Don’t take this the wrong way. I know the thing I said at breakfast went bad.” 

“Just spit it out, dude.” Prompto closed his eyes and gave a long, painful sigh. “I can take it.” 

“You…” He sounded awkward, and when Prompto peeked one eye open to look at him, he looked super uncomfortable. 

“Me?” He prodded. 

“You look pregnant,” he blurted out. 

Prompto stared at him a long moment and then started to laugh. 

Noct flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry,” he said. “It’s just… your belly is so round, dude. And the way you walk, it’s like Gladio’s mom did when—” 

Prompto cut him off, half-laughing, to put him out of his misery. “I am.” 

He stared at him a long time, then sat right down on the floor. “But…” He swallowed awkwardly. “ _How_? I got pretty up close and personal with your dick, Prompto.” 

He snorted. “You got _really_ personal with my ass too. That’s how.” 

“But… you… you’re… you don’t have…” He sounded so lost. 

“I’m not human, Noct,” Prompto replied. “I’m an MT. We’re made different.” 

Noct’s face spasmed with anger. “So that was your whole plan? Take advantage of the poor prince who didn’t have a soulmate to distract him, and pump a baby out?” He demanded, his voice rough with anger. 

He flinched. “I didn’t have a whole plan,” he replied weakly. “I didn’t know I could. I didn’t even know I _was_ until two months in. Wiz picked it up.” 

Noct’s jaw clenched. “So you were just spying on me, feeding information to the empire.” 

He sighed. “Noct… you _know_ me. Who I am, even if you never knew _what_ I am. I nearly had a nervous breakdown trying to hide Iggy’s surprise birthday party from him. You really think I could hide being an Imperial spy for years?” 

“I don’t know,” Noct snapped aggressively. “You hid being an MT pretty well!” 

He rubbed his barcode, wishing it would smudge and come off. Wishing it could just disappear. Even if he couldn’t. “And I lived every moment of my life terrified someone would find out and execute me for it. Look what happened when _you_ did. And you were my _best friend_.” 

“Everything we ever had was a **lie**!” 

Prompto sighed. His splayed his hand over his belly and rubbed. “I don’t… I know you won’t ever forgive me,” he said, the grief heavy in his chest. “But don’t take it out on _him_ , okay? It’s not his fault what he’ll be born into.” 

Noct just stared at him, face going from its tense angry expression to a more familiar indifferent blank. “I would never. He’s a _baby_.” He leaned back into the curtain with a heavy sigh. “Six. A baby. That’s why the Emperor is making me marry you, isn’t it?” 

“To secure the line of succession. Or something.” 

“Six. We’re having a baby.” 

“You’re not gonna accuse me of faking it? Question whether it’s really yours?” 

Noct gave a bitter laugh. “No. I _do_ know you.” 

Prompto gave a sad smile and turned onto his side. “I’m sorry, if that’s worth anything.” He hugged a pillow to his chest. “I wanted to tell you, some day. I just never knew how.” 

“You should’ve told me before we slept together.” Noct sighed and Prompto could hear him get to his feet. “Get some sleep. I’ll wake you when they bring lunch.” 


	5. The Last Morning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can pick up KH3 in 8 hours so don’t expect a chapter until that’s done! LOL.

Ignis showed up the day before the wedding. He strode into the room purposefully, flanked by MTs with their guns trained on him. 

“Specs!” Noct cried eagerly. 

“Highness,” the chamberlain said in a cool, professional tone. “If you’ll accompany me? The royal tailor has been asking for you all day.”

Noct made a show of whining and complaining, following Ignis out like a petulant teenager. When they returned, the guards were missing. 

“Now, on the matter of the menu for the wedding feast…” Ignis began, as the door closed behind them. Once it was firmly in place, the cold demeanour slipped away. 

“Iggy,” Prom said, hating that he was on the edge of crying. 

The Chamberlain, never typically one for affection, rushed over to him and embraced him tightly. “Does he know?” He murmured into Prompto’s ear. 

He nodded subtly in reply. 

When Ignis pulled away, it was to hold his shoulders and look him over. “Prompto. You’re too underweight for your late stage. Are they feeding you adequately?”

He pulled a face at him. How could he call him underweight? He was swollen and fat all over like an overinflated balloon. “I’m fine, Iggy,” he replied, stepping back and rubbing over the huge expanse of his belly. “The emperor’s plans have something to do with the line of succession. They know they’ve gotta take care of me so he can be born safe.”

“...you **knew**?” Noct demanded, his voice rough with anger. They both turned to look at him. “You knew Prom was… and you didn’t _tell_ me!”

Ignis sighed and pushed up his glasses. “As per Prompto’s advice, I did attempt to inform you once I was made acquainted with the matter. You recall the errand I made to Wiz’s ranch alone? Once I returned I asked if you wished to hear some news about Prompto.”

“...and I said no,” Noct realised, his expression almost shamefaced. “Right. That’s when.”

He sat down on the armchair, and Prompto eased himself onto the bed. It was never comfortable to sit anymore — with his back in constant pain in his back and his belly huge and round. 

“How’d you manage to get in the city?” Prompto asked. 

Ignis pushed up his glasses with a smug look. “I informed the imperials at the gate that I was the prince’s chamberlain and if they wanted him to show up at the wedding on time, properly dressed, with his shoelaces tied, then they had to let me into the Citadel.”

Prompto chuckled and rubbed a hand against his belly. “And they bought that?”

“Not until they saw his highness at the tailor’s appointment.” Ignis sat on the couch neatly. “Gladio is amassing our forces outside the city for an attacking. Simply give me the word and I shall send the signal. He can have them ready by sundown.”

Noct looked at Prompto silently for a long moment, his expression completely unreadable. Then he turned back to Ignis and pronounced: “no.”

“...your pardon?”

“Not now, at least. Dad has been cautioning me about patience, and waiting for the right moment. And he’s right. They’ll be expecting an attack, right before the wedding. To stop it from happening.” 

Ignis watched him consideringly and nodded. “That may be a wise course of action. But we only have a small window of opportunity, Noct. The emperor has no need to keep you alive after he has another heir. One he can mould in his own image.”

“I know that,” Noct said irritably. “We have to plan it carefully. Get the timing just right.”

Ignis nodded and stood. “In the meantime, I’d best go play my part — and get the message to Gladio that he must wait.”

Noct nodded. “Specs?”

“Yes, Noct?”

“...thank you.”

He nodded. “Not at all, Highness. It is my joy to fulfil my duties.”

***

The night before their wedding, Prompto had fallen asleep with Noct’s ear pressed to his belly — talking to their baby in a low, private voice. Prom tried not to listen, headphones in his ears. He did catch the occasional phrase, and it seemed like Noct was making all sorts of promises about how good of a father he was going to be. 

Prompto let it soothe him. Argentum would be safe, and treasured, and loved in Noct’s care. 

When he woke up, Noct was watching him from the pillow on the other side of the bed. He rubbed at his eyes with a yawn — forgetting in the haze of sleep what he was, how Noct hated him, what they were even doing in the Citadel. 

“Dude. What time is it? If you’re awake already I must’ve _way_ overslept.”

“It’s still early,” Noct answered. “Specs hasn’t even sent me the daily schedule yet.”

That _was_ early. He yawned and closed his eyes. “Then what are you doing awake?” He mumbled. 

“Couldn’t sleep.”

“Something on your mind?” He asked. It had to be big if Noct couldn’t _sleep_. 

“...it’s my wedding day.”

“Right. The wedding.” Something about the wedding. “Altissia. The empire. The treaty. Lady Lunafreya.” Ugh. He should go back to sleep and maybe it would never happen. He didn’t want to lose Noct to a fairytale princess. 

“...not quite.” Noct sounded way to amused. 

Prompto cracked one eye open to squint at him. “Huh?”

Noct’s hand moved down and rubbed a hand over his belly. He felt something shift underneath underneath the touch and he woke up fully with a start. 

“The wedding! **Our** wedding!”

Noct gave a soft huff of a laugh. “There you go.”

Prompto shifted up, leaning against the headboard. “Isn’t it bad luck to see your bride before the wedding?”

Noct’s hand cupped his belly. “You’re not a bride. Totally doesn’t count.”

He huffed, closing his eyes again. He was so _tired_. The last few days had really hit him. He could hardly sleep, but he was always exhausted. His belly was sagging now, Argentum hanging lower than before. 

Noct shifted, resting his head on Prompto’s belly. “You know…” He trailed off. Prompto nearly fell asleep by the time he spoke again. “A year ago I would’ve killed for this to happen.”

“For what?” He mumbled tiredly, squinting one eye open to look down of him. He couldn’t really see his expression from the angle, Noct was facing away from him. 

“Getting married to you. Knowing that I’m not going to lose you whenever you find the person whose Name is on your wrist. Not having to go through weird medical stuff or sleeping with a woman to get an heir.” But he didn’t sound happy. He sounded longing. 

It hurt. Something tangled and sharp caught in his chest. He closed his eyes tight again. Refusing to cry. He wouldn’t. He shifted his hand down to stroke his fingers through Noct’s soft, dark hair. “How things change, huh?” He tried to laugh through it. 

Noct lifted off his belly and shifted. Prompto could feel his eyes on him. “Things are… way different now.”

“Yeah. They are.” He shifted with a groan. “My back is killing me, dude. I need to get up and walk around.”

“Prompto…”

He shifted away from him, easing himself to his feet. “Pro-tip, dude. Don’t get married eight and a half months pregnant.”

Noct just sighed and tugged the sheets over his head. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll keep that in mind,” he grumbled. 

  


When Prompto came out of the bathroom after his shower, Ignis was running a lint roller over the fabric of Noct’s suit. It had a gold sash across the chest — gold chains and buttons, and a weird cross-over tie. 

The prince himself was still hiding in the bed. “Morning,” he said quietly. 

“Good morning, Prompto,” the chamberlain answered. 

“He’s gonna look gorgeous,” Prompto said, hating that he was tearing up. He rubbed at his eyes. 

“Well. It is his wedding day. Can’t have him slumming around in his usual attire.” 

“I can hear you, you know,” Noct grumbled from the bed. 

He chuckled silently and headed over to the wardrobe to find something at least semi-nice to wear for the day. He froze as he saw a new, fancy outfit hanging front and centre. He made a startled noise. 

“I hope it’s to your liking, Prompto,” Ignis said, from where he was sorting Noct’s suit. “I had to have the tailor rush order the design. Noct’s suit has been ready to fit for some time.” Right. It was the suit he was supposed to wear to his proper wedding, wasn’t it? 

“...thanks.” He was touched. Someone had thought of him today. It meant more to him than a dumb thanks could say.

He took off the bathrobe and painstakingly dressing in the fancy clothes. It was a weird sort of white vest waistcoaty thing with a high stiff collar that ended at his ribs — with split tails down his back. The cotton shirt underneath had super billowy sleeves, like the men on the covers of Gladio’s bodice-ripper paperbacks. It went to his mid-thighs but clung to his round stomach, which made him feel flabby and disgusting — but there was a weird hanging scarf, sash thing that hung down the middle of his belly to his knees. The sash was edged in red and had the empire’s symbol at the end. The pants were pretty basic, but he had to leave them unzipped cause they were too tight. 

“Might have to get you to help with my boots,” he mumbled, ashamed. 

“Of course, Prompto. Whatever you need.” Ignis came over and knelt silently, helping Prompto’s feet and swollen cankles into the soft white leather boots — buckling them around his calf. 

“I look ridiculous,” he said, looking down at himself. 

“You look charming, Prompto,” Ignis corrected, raising back to his feet and adjusting his collar. It took Prompto a moment to realise his green eyes were shiny. 

“Are you… crying?” He asked, anxious. “Is it that bad? Noct could still warp out a window!”

“I’m not upset, Prompto,” Ignis said calmly. “I’m… overwhelmed. With pride, and joy.”

“...huh?”

“Specs always cries at weddings,” Noct said from the bed. That didn’t sound muffled. He glanced over, awkward to see Noct sitting on the edge of the bed watching him intently. Prompto tugged the scarf, sashy thing down self consciously, hoping it could disguise the unsightly swell of his belly. 

“I knew I would see Noct marry,” Ignis explained. “But I had wondered if I would ever get to see you wed. It’s touching.”

“You need to be in the shower, Noct,” Ignis said shortly. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes and I expect you to be ready for dressing.”

“Where are you going?” Prompto asked, confused. 

Ignis touched his arm gently, guiding him to the door. “I’m to escort you to the temple to await the ceremony.”

Prompto swallowed anxiously, glancing back at Noct quickly before he let Iggy take him away. 

The next time they saw each other, it would be at the altar. Ready to be wed. 


	6. Til Death Do Us Part

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been throwing this together while my housemate takes his turn on the KH3. Enjoy!

Prompto stood at the end of the temple. He was totally the bride here, but he was fat and pregnant and nobody wanted to watch him waddle down the aisle. He had a big trailing bunch of flowers in a bouquet that he held sort of waist height to try and disguise the fact this was some bizarre, political shotgun wedding. 

They weren’t sylleblossoms like the other wedding theme had been based around. 

They were the official national flower of the empire. They were called Shiva’s Kisses in flower shops, but they had an even more common name too crass . The flowers were white and round — the petals curving backwards in a kind of upside down cup. There was another level of petals in the middle — these ones ranging from soft pink to deep red — round with a bud in the middle. 

Prompto shifted from foot to foot, darting a look around. Regis stood on the far side of the altar — Noct’s side. If this was a real wedding, one of the Argentums would’ve stood there. Instead the Emperor was there. A Priestess of the Six stood on his other side — between where he and Noct would stand. To say their vows. Binding them together until death do them part. 

He was going to be married to Noct. For the rest of his life. Which… — he glanced down at his rounded belly — would only be a couple more weeks. But still. 

There was a fanfare of trumpets and the doors at the end of the temple were thrown open. He spotted Ignis slipping through a side door to take his seat at the front pew. He was still teary eyed. The sap. 

(Prompto nearly cried seeing him too. Pot meet kettle.)

There was a Gladio-sized space in the pew next to him. It hit Prompto harder than every that this was a sham of a wedding. Noct’s shield, one of the two people in his life who were meant to always be by his side — wasn’t even here. Couldn’t even get into the city. Was outside keeping Noct’s rebel army in order so they could take the city back over. 

He heard Noct’s footsteps — his fancy formal shoes with the hint of a heel — crossing over onto the marble of the altar. His hands trembled tightly, and he couldn’t make himself look up at his groom. The priestess told them to take their left hands. 

He loosed his left hand from the bouquet and gave it over to Noct’s. His hands were gloved — soft, pure white cotton. It was smooth against the pistol calluses, warm with Noct’s body heat. His fingers squeezed around Prompto’s — reassurance, maybe? Empathy? Camaraderie? They were in this together, at least. 

He gave a weak smile, still not able to raise his eyes from the bouquet, and squeezed his hand back. 

The priestess began a long, droning, ceremonial speech. Prompto had only ever been to one wedding before — and he’d been the photographer — but it had been a civil ceremony. None of this long, droning stuff. 

The boredom at least calmed his nerves down. His hand stopped shaking in Noct’s at least. 

But then the ceremony hit a part he did remember. The priestess held up two golden rings. “These rings are a symbol of your bond, together in marriage and commitment. As you place these rings upon one another’s fingers, you are committing to be faithful to one another until death do you part. You shall forever wear these rings as a reminder of your bond to one another.”

Forever, huh? 

She placed them back onto a black velvet cushion and began to say prayers over them. Noct’s thumb stroked across his knuckles. 

The priestess held up a ring and gave it to the prince. “As you place the ring upon your partner’s finger, repeat these vows.”

Noct held the ring carefully between the gloved fingers of his right hand, and held Prompto’s steady. Shaky, Prompto spread his fingers apart so Noct could squeeze the metal band on. “I, Noctis Lucis Caelum, of sound mind and body, do offer myself to thee wed before the presence of the six gods, our earthy witnesses, and all gathered here. I shall remain thine through sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part.”

After he spoke, he pushed the ring over his last, swollen knuckle and into place at the base of his finger. 

And then he started peeling off the glove from his left hand as the priestess began to say the same thing to Prompto. He swallowed anxiously, handing the bouquet to Noct’s other hand. 

He felt the words to his core as he spoke them. Sure, he hadn’t seriously wished to marry Noct for… Well, nearly a year. Ever since the announcement about his engagement to Lady Lunafreya. And even before then, they hadn’t been very hopeful. 

He saw the way Noct used to look at him, how his eyes lingered hopefully on his wristband hoping it hid his own name. He used to think about showing him what was underneath, confessing what he was — and in the really unrealistic fantasies, Noct accepted him totally. Since they both didn’t have names, didn’t have destined soulmates, they had each other. More daring times he maybe in some defiant way Noct would elope with him beyond the wall and come back to tell his father they were married now. And there was nothing he could do about it. 

Well. The ‘Nothing he could do about it’ part happened. The rest was gone. 

“...’til death do us part,” he finished, voice shaking. He pushed the ring over his knuckle and into place. _So. Like. Two weeks._

“You may now kiss to seal your vows.”

A squeak caught in his throat. Okay. Why hadn’t he even thought of that before this moment? Kwek. 

Taking a shaky breath he finally raised his eyes up to Noct’s face. Six, he was so _beautiful_ — and he was wearing a soft little reassuring smile. _It’s okay_ , the look seemed so say, _we’re in this together._

Noct’s bare hand cupped his cheek, he felt a familiar spark shoot through him at the touch of bare skin. They were the same height, Noct only had to lean in and press their lips together. 

The world disappeared. It was him and Noct, and… fireworks. He pressed closer, eyes fluttering closed. But then his belly bumped into Noct’s middle and everything broke. 

He pulled back — Noct leaned forward to try and keep contact a moment longer. But they did part and he felt Noct’s breath gust across his lips in a shaky exhale. 

The crowd cheered and there was another fanfare from the trumpets. He tugged the bouquet back from Noct to hold in front of himself. The prince’s bare hand settled on his lower back, and was there as a support as he waddled down the aisle to the doors of the temple. 

Outside there was even more people — the public had been allowed to gather behind the partitions. It was intimidating, but Noct’s Audi was waiting right nearby. One of the Kingsglaive opened the door for them — Prompto let Noct hand him in and scooted over to the other door so he could sit in afterward. 

Prompto felt the tiredness hit him as soon as he was settled into the leather seats. He stared down at the bouquet. “Wasn’t I supposed to throw this?” He mumbled, concerned. 

“Not at royal weddings,” Noct replied, tugging his glove back on. “It’s too much of a security risk. Or something.” 

“Heh,” he said awkwardly, taking off one of the flowers and plucking at the petals — not hard enough to pull them off, just fiddling. “I was gonna pelt it straight at Iggy.”

“Prompto?” Noct asked, reaching forward to hold his hand, the flower crushing between their fingers. “You okay?”

“We just got married.” He said weakly. “We’re husbands.”

“Yeah,” Noct said. His voice sounded kinda rough. “That happened.”

He sighed — let himself shift over and lean against the prince’s shoulder. “Noct. How do you deal with being this tired _all the time_?” 

Noct’s head settled on top of his own. “Strategic stealth naps,” he murmured. 

“Mm.” He closed his eyes. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

  


It was _hard_ to get through the feast. The food was delicious — of course it was — and all the vegetables were separated enough that Noct didn’t have to dissect his food. 

It was hard to concentrate as the different well-wishers came up, he didn’t know who most of them were. He thanked them and smiled and let Noct do all the talking. 

Between his eighth-month tiredness and the memory of Noct’s lips against his, he just couldn’t _concentrate_. It had been so...tender? No. That wasn’t quite the right word. But whatever it has been… it wasn’t polite, wasn’t the kind of kiss you gave because you had to seal the wedding you were being forced into. It definitely wasn’t that.

Eventually they were allowed to leave. But as Noct led him to the door, he heard a noise start across the room and catch on like a wave. People tinkling their spoons against their champagne glasses. 

“What are they doing?” Prompto whispered. 

“...they want us to kiss.”

He swallowed anxiously. He’d already kissed Noct once today and he was still reeling from it. “Do we have to?”

“The Emperor’s doing it too.”

He swallowed. “Okay. ...Okay.” He reached forward to take Noct’s wrist — maybe if he had something else to focus on, away from his face, it wouldn’t overwhelm him so much. 

He was wrong. Noct tugged him close so their bodies were aligned and pressed his lips against his. 

And it wasn’t like the kiss from the temple. That had been polite in its way — quick and chaste, suitable for a formal event. This wasn’t. This was their feast, surrounded by friends and family (and imperial invaders).

The kiss was intimate. It was no less consuming than the other had been. Maybe it wasn’t fireworks this time - but it was the warmth of the sun as he sat on the dock next to Noct as he fished. 

He could feel every part of his body that was in contact with Noct’s — warm and reassuringly solid against him. 

He parted his lips and pressed them against Noct’s again, daring to taste him. He felt the answering groan rumble through their chests. 

Noct was the one who separated them this time. Prompto whimpered as he parted them, stepping back. 

Well… _fuck_. 

He followed the prince back through the Citadel, MT guards just behind them, feeling like he was in a daze. 

Noct wasn’t _that good an actor_. If he thought the kisses meant something, then there had to be _something_ Noct was feeling, putting into it. 

They hadn’t kissed that many times before. 

Once, very drunk, on the floor of Noct’s living room, when Noct had been morose about his lack of soulmate — thinking he’d be alone forever. That whoever he ended up with — if he ended up with anyone — would never be wholly his. Prompto had leaned over and pressed their lips together, sloppily and uncoordinated. _I don’t care about soulmarks, Noct. I’m always gonna be here for you. As long as you’ll let me._

And then there was the night of The Fall. Oblivious, they’d fallen into one another like it was the end of the world. (Maybe they’d sensed it. Somehow.) He couldn’t count how many kisses they’d shared. Their lips never seemed to separate for more than a few moments. 

(Was that night ruined for Noct now? Knowing that he hadn’t fucked his best friend, he’d been fucking an MT clone?) (It was still everything to him.)

The weeks in between hadn’t given them much opportunity for intimacy. A couple kisses here and there when Noct was too tired to feel guilty — and the morning sickness made sure he didn’t want to put his mouth on Noct’s that often. 

He wished he’d taken better notice. To memorise every detail so he could remember. So he could compare those kisses now to the ones today. 

He startled out of his thoughts when he heard the door to their room close and lock. (When did it become _their_ room?) 

Noct immediately began kicking off his shoes and yanking at the formal clothes. “Thank the Six,” he muttered. “If I had to stay in this one minute longer I was gonna yell.”

Prompto gave a weak chuckle and waddled over to the bed. “Not the kind of yanking your clothes off you expected on your wedding night, huh?” 

There was an awkward pause that followed his response. Great. He’d made it uncomfortable again. He sat down to ease off the boots. 

He heard Noct come around to sit on the other side of the bed. He undid the top few buttons of his waistcoat thing so the stiff upright collar would choke him, and flopped back in the bed. 

“Uh.” Noct started awkwardly. He shifted on the other side. “I mean. It… it _is_ our wedding night. Did you want to… Uh… you know? ‘Cause it’s okay. If you do.”

His face heated. “Oh. Um. No.” He shifted awkwardly. “It’s like, uh, the pregnancy hormones or whatever. I haven’t really wanted to. Since. Well, Galdin.”

“Oh. Okay. That’s. Fine.”

“Did you want to…?”

“No, uh, it’s okay. I’m kinda drained. I’d rather just go to sleep. If that’s cool.”

“Yeah. It’s cool.” He rolled his head to the side to give him a weak smile. “Big surprise. You’d rather sleep. Hah.”

Noct lay down next to him and flicked at his ear. “Shuddup.”

He eased himself under the covers, not bothered to undress at all. “Heh. Better luck on your next wedding.”

“My… _next_ wedding?” Noct repeated, confused. 

He yawned, closing his eyes. “Yeah. You know. When all _this_ is over, and you’ve chased out the imperials, and you’ve got your kingdom back. You can do the wedding _your way_. No more political betrothals, or shotgun weddings.” And Prompto would have already death did them part by then. He wouldn’t even need to divorce.

He was almost asleep by the time Noct replied to that. “You’d _marry me_?”

It didn’t make any sense to his half-asleep brain. He turned towards him, squirming to get comfortable with the weight of his belly. “I already did, didn’t I?” He mumbled through a yawn. 

“Yeah, but…” He trailed off. 

Prompto settled in to sleep again — but he didn’t get there. Noct moved forward, bare hand cupping his neck and the back of his head, and pressed their lips together again. He made a sleepy noise of confusion, stroking a hand across Noct’s bare arm. 

When their lips parted, he felt Noct’s whisper across his lips. “Do you still love me?”

“Huh...what?” He mumbled, confused. 

“I know you did before,” he said urgently. “Before… before we found out you were an MT and I turned into a bigger jerk than Gladio. Fuck… I _warp stabbed_ you, Prompto. How can you still want to _marry me_?”

Prompto reached up and lightly stroked his cheek. “Oh Noct. You wouldn’t understand.” He leaned up, pressed their foreheads together. “I’ve spent my whole life knowing that’s how people would react after they learned what I am. It’s why it would so hard to _tell_ you.”

“What you are?” Noct echoed. 

“A clone, a monster. One step below a robot.” He closed his eyes, dropping his hand away. “The entire reason I exist is to make you all miserable. How could I tell you that?”

“Hey…” Noct said, cupping his face with both hands and waiting until he opened his eyes again. “Since when does where you come from matter to you?” He asked. “You never once treated me like a prince.”

“There’s nothing to be _ashamed_ of, being born a prince.”

Noct sighed. “What about Iggy?”

“Huh?”

“He was born on an island that’s part of imperial territory. They tried to get rid of him as my chamberlain because he was.”

“They can’t do that!” Prompto hissed angrily. “He’s your chamberlain — and he’s the most competent person on the **planet**. They can’t get rid of him!”

“Yeah, but he was born Imperial.”

“It doesn’t matter how he was born!” And then Noct was smirking at him. He froze up. “You tricked me!” he accused. 

Noct leaned in and kissed him. “I was wrong. To flip out on you. And shotgun wedding or not, I’m going to spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”

Prompto pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Til death do us part.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shiva’s Tits are based on narcissus flowers for your imagination purposes.


	7. A New Unknown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but KH3 is finished and I’m recovering from the depression it sunk me into. So back to writing time!

“Yes it would appear they are proper contractions,” the nurse said. “I would suggest you call the surgeon to come as soon as possible.” 

Prompto whined, grabbing at his belly and rocking into the muscles cramping painfully. He didn’t _have_ the right muscles but that didn’t stop his brain from sending the signals — getting tangled up and his body basically just shrugging and going _cramp the WHOLE AREA instead!_

It was worse than that time he’d eaten those dodgy streetcar skewers in Insomnia before the attack and spent the next two days with the worst case of food poisoning in his life. 

And he was worried. The muscles were trying to force down and push Argentum out. When he had nowhere to go. Would it crush him?

It was the Emperor who answered. “I will have one of Besithia’s surgeons sent for immediately. Have a surgical room prepared.” He’d forced his way in personally and demanded answers about Prompto’s condition. 

“Hospital,” he gasped. “I need a hospital.” 

They both ignored him. He cringed and sunk into the pain. 

The emperor strode out, Prompto looked wildly around. “Noct,” he mumbled. “Someone needs to tell Noct.”

The nurse patted his arm. “A message has been delivered to the prince’s chamberlain.” 

He nodded. Iggy. Iggy would tell Noct. And Noct would come to stay by his side as much as he could. He’d be here for Argentum from the beginning. Argentum would always have one of his parents. 

His entire body clenched with mind-numbing pain. Then he felt a small prick at his arm and something cold shooting through his veins. 

  


He was strapped to a gurney. The air was sterile and stunk of disinfectant. Someone had taken away his clothes and put him in a paper gown with ties at his waist. He rolled his head aside — seeing the hallway rush past. Why were there so many people running with their weapons out? 

“Of all the times for a counter-attack,” the nurse swore, turning him down another room. 

There was a strange whistling noise, then the whole wall rocked with the feeling of an explosive hitting the wall. 

The right time. Noct had said they had to wait for the right time. But who would be here for Argentum?

The doors of the surgical room closed and the shouts of battle were muffled to almost nothing. The smell was even stronger in here. 

Prompto couldn’t see the surgeon’s face behind the mask over his mouth — but he had mean eyebrows. He tried to shift his arms to protect his belly, but they tugged against the restraints. 

“It’s awake,” the muffled voice of the surgeon was gruff and disapproving. 

“I’m not an anaesthesiologist,” the nurse snapped back at him, her voice fierce and protective. “The epidural worked as it should.”

The surgeon grunted and began to clean his hands again. “Prepare it.”

The nurse gave him a nasty look and squeezed Prompto’s hand before she moved to put up a curtain between his torso and his belly. He felt her opening the gown too — but not the change of temperature as his belly was exposed to the air. 

There was another explosion that made the loose objects in the room rattle. The surgeon looked irritated. “To be expected to work in these _conditions!_ ” 

“I reconstructed a Glaive’s leg in the back of a moving ambulance, quit complaining _doctor_ ,” she hissed. 

Oh yeah. Prompto liked her. 

The surgeon’s only response was a curt: “scalpel.”

Scalpel? Already? 

He felt something weird around his belly, and then his eyes were drawn to the surgeon’s hand as he swapped the scalpel for a clamp. Red…

Everything went woozy, and then dark. 

  


He could hear wailing. It tugged at his chest. He fluttered his eyes open. “Argentum…” His voice was barely a whisper. 

“The emperor will not be pleased,” the surgeon said to the nurse, his voice cool. 

“Should we hide her? Say that the son didn’t survive the surgery?”

“And have _my_ head on the chopping block? No. Let the clone deal with the consequences.”

He didn’t understand. His brain was too foggy. He felt weak and woozy, like when he used to donate blood but like… five times worse. 

“Argentum…” He tried again. 

The nurse’s voice was hushed, sad: “there’s nothing you can do for him?”

“The clones are not made to be resilient. After their turns, they’re turned into daemonic cores almost immediately. I have done what I can, but—”

They were interrupted as the door burst open. He rolled his head to the side to see the Emperor entering — his clothes blood-stained and sooty. He looked angry. “Is it done?”

“Yes, your radiance,” the surgeon said. “But—”

The emperor shoved past him to a small bassinet. He recoiled with disgust. “A _girl_?” He hissed. “And what on Eos am I supposed to do with **that**?”

One hand reached into the bassinet and lifted up a naked baby by the foot. Prompto made a cry of protest and tried to sit up, straining against the restraints. “Put him down!”

The Emperor let the nurse take the baby with gentle hands, giving Prompto an angry look. “Send Regis his precious grandchild in pieces.”

“No…” Prompto said, as his strength gave out. He was so weak, so woozy, it was hard to stay awake. 

The emperor stormed out. “The airship is waiting!” he barked at the surgeon. 

The surgeon cleared his throat, looking at the nurse. “Well. I have my orders. It will be your task to fulfil the emperor’s command towards the child.”

She snorted. “Yeah. Sure. I’ll get right on that.”

The surgeon came around to the gurney and unlocked the wheels, beginning to steer him towards the doors. He made a noise of protest, stretching his fingers towards the nurse and his wailing baby. “Argentum…” 

The doors of the surgical room closed and he gave in to the darkness that had been trying to swallow him. 

***

Noct was slumped on the armchair in his room. He had washed off the battle, but now he didn’t have any energy left to move. There was something he had to remember, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. 

They’d taken back the Citadel and then the city. The imperials had been chased out — the emperor fleeing before all the others. Coward. 

He closed his eyes, ready to doze off. 

The door opened, and Ignis’s footsteps were tentative. He sighed. “Specs,” he grumbled. “We just won back our city. I’m too tired for this. Just jump straight to the question, would you?”

“Very well.” His chamberlain sounded bemused. “What shall you do for the name then?”

“Name?” Noct echoed, wrinkling his face up in confusion without opening his eyes. 

“Yes. The name.” Ignis’s voice was surprisingly gentle. “Prompto wanted Argentum, obviously. But that doesn’t really fit for a _girl_.”

He threw his eyes open and yanked his gaze up to his chamberlain. He was carefully cradling a small bundle wrapped in a white blanket in one arm, the other hand busy tickling at a pudgy cheek with one finger. 

He stood immediately, only wavering on his feet for a moment, before he rushed over. “A girl? We had a baby girl?” He asked. 

“Indeed — support her head, that’s the way.”

Noct stared down in awe at the little face peeking out of the folds of the soft white cotton. He sunk carefully back into the armchair. She was so _small_. The tiniest thing ever. 

“Her name, then?” Ignis pressed. “Regis wants to make the announcement immediately.”

“I don’t know,” he said, still in awe of this tiny human cradled in the crook of his elbow. “I’ll ask Prompto when they let me in to see him. When should the anaesthetic wear off from his surgery?”

The sudden silence from Specs had his heart skipping a beat. He raised his eyes to the chamberlain’s face. 

His expression was grim. “Asking Prompto will not be possible.” 

**Author's Note:**

> A friend of mine suggested I start a discord for readers to interact with each other and me! [So I did!](https://discord.gg/pR3GVhu) Feel free to stop by and join.


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